


Rabbit Hole

by MistressOfMalplaquet



Category: Archie Comics, Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Betty's reaction, F/M, Loyal!Betty Cooper, Waking Up, after 1x06, sex dreams are magical, to new possibilities
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-09
Updated: 2018-07-09
Packaged: 2019-06-07 21:02:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15227826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MistressOfMalplaquet/pseuds/MistressOfMalplaquet
Summary: Betty's reaction post 1x06





	Rabbit Hole

The Wind in the Willows, Finn Family Moomintroll, and Alice in Wonderland are hidden at the back of Betty Cooper’s bookshelf. When she can’t sleep, sometimes she takes out one of her old favorites and reads under the covers using an actual flashlight.

She hates throwing things away.

Loving Archie has been part of her life for so long that when he rejects her – and oh, the gentle soft expression in his brown eyes when he does it – Betty feels like a boat that’s been untied and left to float away to sea. Her plan has always been ready like the last Christmas present: _Tomorrow I’ll tell Archie how I feel about him and see if he’d like to go on an actual date. To the movies. With popcorn. And hand-holding._

Now that future gift no longer exists.

Alice banishes Betty to her room after the bus trip to Sisters of Quiet Mercy, and for once The Wind in the Willows won’t help. Betty sits in front of her mirror and fiddles with a photo of her, Archie, and Jughead, the three of them squinting into late sunlight. Archie’s in the middle with his arms around her and Jug, smile wide on his handsome face.

She peers closer at the picture. Jughead, Betty notices, isn’t looking at the camera at all but glancing at her instead. The expression in his eyes is unreadable, perhaps hiding his own secret the same way she squirrels away old books.

There’s a tap on her window, making her jump and drop the photo.

Betty looks up and sees Jughead, one knuckle on the glass. The boy she’s just been thinking about has climbed a ladder in broad daylight to reach her room.

#

He tells her she’s not crazy. He tells her all parents are crazy, not just hers.

He says the word Also, and stops.

#

Betty has begun to notice that Jughead finishes her sentences as though they’re on the same wavelength. He writes with her at the Blue & Gold. Like a thief in the night he’s been creeping into her thoughts when she writes a schedule and thinks _Jug needs to know I have cheerleading practice_. Chuck’s so intent on a phone text he walks straight into a locker door – must tell Jughead. Write a great sentence? Tell Jug. Have an idea for an amazing article? Find him and talk it through. The crescent moon is slender as a silver serpent? It makes her want to call Jughead so he can see it too.

And she’s had dreams so fleeting and strange that they leave nothing but confused impressions of black hair and freckles on pale skin. All she remembers, other than those fading images, is that she doesn’t want to wake up.

#

Also, Jughead says.

#

Strange. It’s a strange day with the strangest of feelings blooming in Betty’s belly, like spark plugs clamped to her vitals. What, she asks with the feeling she already knows.

The boy takes a breath as if he’s about to jump off the high-dive. His eyes close, he leans in.

He kisses her.

It’s short and all the sweeter for that, just soft lips against her mouth, Jughead’s hand firm on her neck, warm rush of his breath on her cheek.

#

When she lies in bed later and can’t sleep, Betty writes her own story. She thinks of Jughead choosing her, of Jughead kissing her, of Jughead climbing up to her window and calling her Juliet.

Each of these memories shocks her with brief and delicious pain shooting through her bellybutton straight down her thighs.

#

She sits in Biology and thinks about Jughead. Her breathing quickens, and her lips part.

At lunch Jughead will sit next to her because he always does. Will the elbow patch of his old jacket brush against her waist? Will he scrape the edge of her knee with one fingernail, the briefest of touches? Will their eyes meet, filled with untold secrets and hidden mysteries?

#

Betty pages through her journal and reads over the past few days’ entries. There’s something different, and it takes a minute to realize what it is.

There’s no mention of Archie at all. When she flips back to the tortured confessions from the summer of how much she wanted and longed and loved, those words seem like they've been written by a different person.

#

Betty dreams she falls into a well of darkness. Another person is in the black and velvet place with her, but she doesn’t know who it is until she lands on a pile of leaves and he falls on top of her. She and Jughead stare at each other, eyes wide.

The lightning in her belly makes her arch up underneath him. He dips his head and kisses her – soft and firm. It’s a claim, as if she belongs to him.

#

She’s on fire. Betty wakes and pushes back the blankets, still feeling the boy’s body on top of hers. Sleep is no longer an option.

Her yellow scuff slippers are warm on her feet, the silk robe cool against her skin. Betty picks up her phone and wanders to the window seat, planning to read a chapter or two of the preachy novel their teacher has assigned in Advanced Lit.

A dark shape stands in the window of the house next to hers. The Andrews house. Archie’s home.

For a moment, Betty isn’t sure if she sees Archie or Jughead. Her boyfriend has been living there for a few days, although how and why isn’t clear. She gets the idea neither of the boys want to talk about it, and for once she refuses to go into her usual Nancy Drew mode. If it’s Jughead’s secret, then Betty will respect that.

_Can’t sleep?_

The text pings in the quiet bedroom. When she sees who has sent it, the odd flutters in her belly roll through her so suddenly she gasps. Betty closes her eyes and blows out a long breath before sending back a quick response.

_You can’t either, obviously._

Jughead texts that he’s been too obsessed with semicolons to sleep, and she replies that he’s a bit like a semicolon himself, with his antique connection between different worlds.

_Oh yeah? Well, you’re an ellipsis,_ he shoots back.

Betty grins. They’re really doing this, flirting through the medium of punctuation like a couple of language geeks.

_Really? You're calling me a dot dot dot? The eternal etcetera? That’s the best you can do?_

It takes him a few minutes to reply, while she watches him through two glass barriers like fish in separate aquariums.

His text pops up, and Betty sucks in a deep breath when she reads _You’re not a mere Etcetera, Betty Cooper. Etc. implies an unfinished list that everyone knows, such as the ingredients of a BLT. But an ellipsis means possibilities. Anything could happen with you._

It’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to her. Betty feels the same sharp thrill inside, a shameful urge to smash through her window and climb into the Andrews’ house. She wants to find Jughead, wants to push him back on the bed and kiss him until they’re both breathless.

She’s so intent on the wonderful surprise of him, of this boy in her life and the new way he makes her feel, that she’s forgotten to reply.

_What are you thinking about?_ Jughead texts.

For a moment Betty doesn’t know how to answer. Should she tell him about these new sensations in her body? The birth of this unexpected desire? Is it too soon or the right time?

And then she knows exactly what to write.

Smiling, Betty types _dot dot dot_ and hits Send.

Across from her, Jughead’s dark figure shifts. He places one palm on the glass, and instantly Betty mirrors him. They stand there on the verge of dawn, absorbed in each other.

_See you tomorrow?_

That thought is a new gift, one Betty thinks she might be able to open every single day.

_Tomorrow, Jones,_ she types, and waves goodnight.


End file.
